True warfare is rarer in Nature than cannibalism. - T. H. White

He was one of those people who would be neither a follower nor a leader, but only an aspiring heart, impatient in the failing body which imprisoned it.

And in the winter, which was confined by statute to two months, the snow lay evenly, three feet thick, but never turned into slush.

Elaine had done the ungraceful thing as usual. Guenever, in similar circumstances, would have been sure to grow pale and interesting — but Elaine had only grown plump.